


The Lost & The Forgotten

by shadowmaat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: Obi-Wan was left behind on Tatooine with a promise he'd be collected soon. Time is moving on, though, and the only person who's sought him out is a Sith Apprentice. Both of them have some choices to make.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlingargents](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/gifts).



> Looks like I accidentally gifted to the wrong person. Apologies to both darlingamidala and darlingargents for not finding out sooner.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood on the roof of the junk shop, watching the suns set. His padawan braid tickled his neck as a breeze kicked up and he was too weary to reach up and tuck it down. He heard the snap-hum of a saber igniting behind him and sighed.

“Fight me!” The Sith snarled when he turned to face him.

“Not today, Maul,” Obi-Wan said. “But if you’re hungry, I have some of Shmi’s kubbis.” He picked one of the fried meat pastries off the plate beside him and held it out.

Maul sneered, an expression enhanced by the jagged black markings on his face. He still held his lightsaber at the ready, so Obi-Wan leaned against the ledge and waited. He bit into another of the kubbis himself, playing up how good it tasted. There was  _ actual meat _ in these ones, which was a nice bonus.

After a minute or two of watching, Maul disengaged his saber and reached out. Obi-Wan felt the offered food snatched from his hand to fly over to Maul’s. He didn’t react other than to lower his hand to his lap. Maul glared at him a while longer before taking his first bite.

Obi-Wan had been on Tatooine for close to four months now and had been a slave for almost as long, thanks to the ill-advised machinations of his Master. In that time he’d had more than a few encounters with the strangely-colored zabrak, who called himself Maul and claimed to be on a mission to kill him. He and Obi-Wan had fought to a standstill numerous times, but it was hard to live among slaves and not learn to recognize certain signs. Obi-Wan was willing to bet his lightsaber that Maul was a slave, himself, even if he claimed the title of Sith Apprentice and boasted of his accomplishments.

Talking him down took more patience than Obi-Wan usually had, but most of his anger was tied up with his own Master and there was just something… compelling about his Dark Side counterpart. Conversation wasn’t exactly his strong point, but even his silences could be revealing. Obi-Wan’s best guess was that Maul was somewhere around his age, maybe younger, and while he was clearly educated, it had been a very focused program with a lot of knowledge gaps around the edges. He was also perpetually hungry, a fact Obi-Wan had exploited as often as possible.

Maul finished the palm-sized pastry in three bites and stalked closer. Obi-Wan shifted over, leaving room between himself and the plate of kubbis. The Sith, still clutching his saberstaff in one hand, grabbed another kubbi and leaned against the ledge beside him.

“I could kill your Master,” he said, taking a bite. “Then you’d be free to fight me.”

“And which  _ Master _ would that be?” Obi-Wan couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

Red-fringed yellow eyes regarded him. He gazed back, feeling his grief diminish. They were both of them trapped by circumstances. Circumstances created by their Masters. He’d defend Qui-Gon to his dying day, but sometimes in his darkest moments he wondered if his Master was the one who didn’t measure up rather than him.

He didn’t need to know Maul’s Master to know he was the worst sort. Watching the way Maul tensed at unexpected movements, his parroting of cliche lines, and the multitude of scars visible on the rare occasions he removed his upper tunic spoke volumes. Becoming a Sith was supposed to be a choice, but why would anyone choose this?

It was getting dark, so it was harder to see, but there was something off about his appearance. Maul had lowered his hood when he sat and Obi-Wan now realized he was missing two horns. He was being overly-careful not to favor his left side and there was a puffiness around his eye and lower lip. He carried a strong odor of burning.

“You’re hurt! What happened?”

It was, of course, the wrong question. Maul bared his teeth at him and turned away, eating in silence. 

It had been three weeks since they’d last met. Obi-Wan knew Maul had a ship because he’d boasted about it, and the intervals between their encounters would have given him time to travel elsewhere and come back, but he’d never figured why he was important enough for Maul’s unknown Master to keep sending him back. Killing a forgotten Jedi Padawan wouldn’t accomplish much, but turning him didn’t seem to be on the agenda, either. He’d begun to suspect the Master didn’t know what his Apprentice was doing and now wondered if he’d finally found out.

“You don’t have to stay with him if he’s hurting you,” he said, knowing he was treading a dangerous line.

“I failed him.”

The words were so quiet that at first Obi-Wan thought he’d imagined them.

“I’d say he failed you first,” he said, aware of the irony of his statement. Where was Qui-Gon? Where was  _ anyone _ from the Order? Now there was a Sith Apprentice seated beside him. Possibly an ex-Apprentice at this point; injured and hurting, but  _ here. _

Silence continued to stretch, so he decided to change the subject.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “And please don’t kill Watto. It would make things very awkward for Shmi.”

Anakin’s mother had taken him in when Qui-Gon had proposed the “trade.” She’d shown him more kindness than he’d seen in… Well, since his days in the creche at least. In addition to being kind she was also knowledgeable, and had been doing her best to teach him what he needed to know to survive as a slave. Even if it was only temporary.

If he really wanted to- and there were times he was tempted- he could simply walk away from Watto’s. The explosive tracker implanted in his leg would be easy enough to disable, but if he ran Shmi would be punished for it. He could always take her with him, but he was barely able to help himself right now, let alone her.

“Her cooking is adequate.”

Obi-Wan barely stifled a smile. Coming from Maul, that was high praise. 

“I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.”

The last three kubbis were gone, inhaled while Obi-Wan had been lost in brooding. It was a good thing he’d snatched some food earlier as that had been meant to be his dinner. He watched Maul lick his fingers and thought about his future.

“What do I do if he doesn’t come back for me?” He didn’t realize he’d asked the question out loud until Maul looked at him. He shrugged, cheeks heating at his own lack of faith. “I mean, I’m sure he will. Or… or the Order will send someone. Maybe they’re busy.”

“If you were  _ my _ Apprentice I wouldn’t leave you behind.”

It was tempting to laugh, but there was an intensity to the words that told him it wouldn’t be a good idea. Plus, if he was interpreting the situation correctly, Maul hadn’t left him behind even though he was supposed to. 

“Thank you.” Without thinking about it he reached out to pat his shoulder and found his hand caught in a painful grip.

Before he could apologize his hand was pulled closer for inspection. He watched Maul scrutinize his calluses and trace the lines of his palm with his thumb. Dark red and black skin against sunburned white. It seemed strangely intimate, and with the gentlest of shifts he managed to lace their fingers together. Maul frowned, but didn’t resist, so he allowed their joined hands to drop between them.

“I have a ship.”

It was an offer. An invitation. He and Maul had crossed paths at least half a dozen times in the past four months while he’d heard not a word from anyone in his former life.

“What about Shmi?” He asked, knowing as he said it that it wasn’t a rejection.

Maul wrinkled his nose. “Only if she brings food.”

The universe held its breath.

Obi-Wan smiled, squeezing his hand. “Deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned to add more, but I'm avoiding updates to my other fics, so you guys get the bonus.

It had been almost five months since Obi-Wan had last seen Coruscant. Five months since the disastrous mission that had ended with his Master selling him into slavery in exchange for a Force-strong child. Five months since he stood there in a junk shop, fighting to control his emotions while his Master promised to return for him. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and descended the ramp of the ship as the hum and bustle of Coruscant washed over him. Shmi was close behind, wary but determined. She was a slave no longer, and if the price had been bloodier than Obi-Wan expected, it was a price that Watto had nonetheless deserved.

The third member of their party remained within the confines of the ship. Obi-Wan turned, just able to see his outline in the dark interior. Maul was… he was a mystery. For a Sith Apprentice- former Apprentice- he displayed strange moments of kindness, which he carefully concealed under layers of selfishness and arrogance. He hadn’t rescued them because it was the right thing to do, but because he wanted to prove his superiority. He didn’t bring them to Coruscant because they asked, but because it was where he was going anyway.

His ship had been cramped with three of them vying for space. Obi-Wan kept finding himself pressed close to his rescuer, the two of them trying to occupy spaces meant for one in order to give Shmi the illusion of more room. Some of the looks she gave them made him flush hot with embarrassment, though he wasn’t sure why. It was a practical arrangement, that was all.

He licked his lips, spotting the faint glow of Maul’s eyes.

“We’ll be back by nightfall,” he said.

The ramp retracted, sealing Maul within his ship. Giving Shmi a smile he couldn’t quite feel he led her over to the shuttle waiting nearby. The one that would take him home.

The comm he’d made to the Temple had not gone as well as he’d hoped. He had the distinct impression that his return was somehow inconvenient. It had taken all of his negotiating skills to get them to agree to allow Shmi to see her son and even that would be under strictly supervised conditions. He himself was due to appear before the Council in order to account for his actions. When he’d asked after his Master he’d been informed that Qui-Gon was “unavailable.”

The flight to the Temple was short. Obi-Wan did his best to answer Shmi’s questions, but it was hard to tear his eyes away from those familiar spires.  _ Home. He was finally home _ . Something in his chest ached at the sight. If he’d known how the day was going to end he might have ordered the shuttle to turn around, but the relief he felt left no room for any hint of warning.

The shuttle was met by Masters Windu, Yoda, and Koon, their expressions severe and formal. There was no sign of Qui-Gon.

“Returned to us you have, Padawan Kenobi,” Yoda said.

Obi-Wan bowed deep to the Grandmaster. “Yes, Master. I hope you’ll forgive my impatience in wanting to come home. It’s been a long five months.”

Mace and Yoda exchanged a look.

“You’ve brought someone with you,” Plo said, tilting his head back.

“I have.” Obi-Wan smiled. “Masters, may I present the Lady Shmi Skywalker, Anakin’s mother.”

He introduced her to the three Masters. She curtseyed in return, eyes glued to the ground.

“Allow me to escort you to the meeting room, Lady Skywalker,” Plo said. “Anakin is looking forward to seeing you.”

Shmi shot Obi-Wan a nervous look, but he smiled encouragement. 

“We’ll meet up later,” he told her. “Say hi to Ani for me.”

Mace and Yoda remained silent as Plo and Shmi left the hangar area. Obi-Wan tried not to fidget. He was beginning to get a sense that something might be wrong.

“Is everything alright, Masters? I know Qui-Gon said he’d send someone for me, but-”

“Master Jinn is no longer with the Order,” Mace said, his expression somehow managing to become more severe. “We did try to convince him it wasn’t his fault, but he said he needed time to think.”

Obi-Wan felt as if he’d been kicked in the chest. 

“Wh… What? What do you mean, he isn’t with the Order?” He looked between the two of them but found no answers there. “Why? What happened?”

“Come. Much there is to discuss.” Yoda turned and began hobbling over to his hoverchair. “Many answers you can provide.”

“Me?” He trailed after them, feeling lost. “I’ve been on Tatooine for five months! What could I know?”

“The name of the Sith who subverted you, for starters,” Mace said, dark eyes watching him.

Obi-Wan stopped, feeling another emotional punch. He managed, barely, to keep from blurting out Maul’s name.

“I haven’t been subverted by anyone,” he said, tensing as two Temple Guards joined them.

“Determine that the Council will,” Yoda said.

A lead weight settling into his chest, Obi-Wan followed them to the Council Chamber. He didn’t ask any more questions. He was no longer sure he wanted to know the answers.

Unfortunately, in among the barrage of questions hurled at him once the session began, Obi-Wan was able to piece together what had happened.

Apparently Qui-Gon had not abandoned him on Tatooine, as he’d begun to suspect. His Master had returned with the intent of purchasing Obi-Wan’s indenture only to find him sharing lunch with the Sith who’d tried to kill him. He’d stayed long enough to determine that not only did Obi-Wan know what Maul was, but that he seemed to be comfortable with it.

Qui-Gon had returned to Coruscant to inform the Council that Obi-Wan had Fallen and that he was taking an indefinite leave of absence seeing as this was his second Padawan to Fall and clearly the Force is trying to tell him something. He dumped Anakin (whom he fought for tooth and nail) onto the creches and left.

Obi-Wan could tell that his efforts to explain the situation were somehow making matters worse, and when the question of exactly how he’d arrived on Coruscant and with whom came up, he gave up. The final decision of the Council was to strip him of his rank and entitlements. Given the work he’d accomplished while under Qui-Gon’s tutelage he would be allowed to walk out of the Temple without chains, but if he tried to set foot on the grounds again he’d be treated as the threat he was.

There was no reasoning with them. There was no explaining that just because he talked to a Sith didn’t mean he was one, himself. And trying to explain that Maul was no longer a Sith anyway would likely have made matters even worse. Obi-Wan argued for as long as he could and then bowed his head and promised to abide by the Council’s decision. He wasn’t even allowed to collect his possessions, few though they were. He returned to the hangar under escort to find Shmi waiting for him and together they departed.

Shmi did all of the talking on the way back to the spaceport. Obi-Wan tried to listen, but it was hard to concentrate on anything past his grief and the chill against his neck where his Padawan braid used to hang. He answered her in monosyllables and when the shuttle dropped them off his throat tightened to see Maul’s ship still sitting on the landing pad. Waiting.

He lost track of time after that. They must have boarded the ship. They had to have taken off. But for Obi-Wan, one minute he was standing on the landing pad and the next he was seated with a warm weight against his side. Maul was there, reading something off a datapad.

“My Master was right about one thing,” he said, not looking up from the screen. “The Jedi are fools.”

Something in Obi-Wan’s chest broke. His breath hitched and his eyes burned and he buried his face in his hands and cried.

Maul huffed. “Crying is a sign of weakness,” he warned. But he didn’t move away.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he was almost sure that Maul actually leaned in a little. He felt the lightest brush of fingers against his hair. Or maybe that was his imagination, too. Obi-Wan cried for the future he’d lost, the family that had abandoned him, and the hopes that had been ground to dust. But even as the tears soaked into the sleeves of his robe a soft voice in the back of his mind whispered that while he had lost one family, he may have found another.


End file.
